


Death is Nothing (But to Live Defeated...is to Die Daily)

by queermageddon



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Skyeward Christmas Fic Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:32:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8945461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queermageddon/pseuds/queermageddon
Summary: There is nothing worse than suffering the loss of a loved one, especially if they're still there...you just can't be with them. Written for the Skyeward Christmas Fic Fest!





	1. One: Suffering

_ “It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree.” _

_ ―  _ _ Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy _

* * *

  _Grant woke up to the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. He couldn't stop the genuine smile from appearing on his face nor could he stop the warmth from blossoming inside of him as he listened to the familiar sound, the overwhelming flash of happiness energizing him to quickly get out of bed and pull on his boxers that had been discarded the night before._

_Grant found Skye cooking breakfast, laughing at something on the television as she cut up some fruit. Grant leaned against the kitchen entryway with his arms crossed and a soft expression on his face. She hadn’t noticed his presence yet, giving him a few minutes to just watch her. They had been together for over a year yet Grant still found himself wondering how he got so lucky. Skye was the best thing to ever happen to him._

_Grant didn’t have a happy childhood. His parents had led him to believe that he was undeserving of any kind of love. His older brother tortured him and his younger brother. When he met Skye, he was broken and filled with anger and resentment. The attraction to her was immediate, but he never thought she would stick around. He was sure that she would bolt when she found who he really was, but she didn’t. She didn’t bolt when he revealed his painful past. She didn’t bolt when he took his anger out on her. She didn’t even bolt the first time she met his family. Instead, after every rocky incident, she wrapped him in her arms and whispered words of love, encouragement, and compassion in his ears._

_Skye helped him work through the trauma of his past and proved to him that he deserved love. As their relationship grew stronger, he began to see things in his future that he would have never thought about before Skye. He began to imagine marriage and kids, he dreamed about a two-story house with a white fence and a dog. He might be jumping ahead, considering they weren't even living together yet, but he couldn't wait to build a future and a family together._

_Grant was pulled from his thoughts when a strawberry hit him. Skye was smiling mischievously at him._

_"Hey, stud. You going to stand there and stare at me all day or are you going to come over here and help me?" Grant smiled before walking over to where she was still cutting the fruit and wrapped his arms around her waist. Instinctively, Skye leaned back into him. She tilted her head slightly up so she could nuzzle his neck._

_“Breakfast smells delicious,” he whispered before kissing her head. He closed his eyes and sighed in content as the familiar fluttering in his stomach began. Grant really had no clue what he would do if he lost Skye. It was a thought that - although he didn’t like to think about - on occasion found its way into his brain and caused him to shudder._

_Skye snorted and elbowed him playfully._

_"It's fruit and yogurt. It's not like I cooked a three-course meal."_

_"Hmm....well, if anything, it's a two-course meal. Fruit and yogurt and then you." Grant nibbled on her earlobe, causing her to laugh and squirm._

_“Sorry Charlie, I have this terrible thing called work in an hour.”_

_“We could always multitask,” he mumbled against her neck suggestively. Skye turned around in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. Grant’s throat grew thick as Skye flashed him her signature flirty smile._

_"Oh, I bet we could, but…"_

_“But?” He raised an eyebrow at her._

_“I’m really enjoying this show,” she nodded her head toward the television. She smiled teasingly at him._

_Grant scoffed in mock offense._

_“Oh, you’re asking for it.” He warned before tickling her waist. She laughed and tried to squirm away from him._

_“Oh, my god,” she laughed breathlessly. “Grant stop! I-”_

“Mr. Ward? Mr. Ward!”

“What?” Grant turned away from his floor to ceiling office windows to see his secretary, Donna, standing by the door. “I’m sorry, what did you say Donna?”

“I said I was heading to lunch. Was there anything you need?”

“Oh… no, thank you. Enjoy your lunch.” Grant gave her a small, mirthless smile - the only smile he could bear to give - before he turned back towards the windows.

It was a stormy day. The sky above was dark - the only light to break through was a strike of lightning every few minutes. The sound of thunder rumbled loudly, shaking the city below. It wasn’t raining yet, but Grant knew it would soon. It wasn’t cold enough outside for snow, but it was for icy roads. Wrecks would happen and people would die. The worst part of all was that there was no way anyone could know that getting in their car to run an errand, pick up the kids from school, or head home from work could be the last thing they would do.

That was how tragedies worked. They happened in the blink of the eye, at random, and there was nothing that could be done to stop it. Grant discovered that the hard way. He discovered it when -...

Grant shook his head.

He didn’t want to think about that. Living life was hard enough without constantly thinking about what was taken from him. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. After a minute or two, when it was clear that it wouldn’t work, he opened his eyes and stared at nothing in particular.

He remained at his office windows, with his arms hung limply at his side until the rain began to beat against the window. Once the hard rain hindered his view, he turned and walked to his desk. He slumped down tiredly and began to sort through the paperwork he had been neglecting.

Grant lost track of time as he slowly went through the motions of sorting his paperwork. He only snapped out of his reverie when Donna stuck her head in his office to say goodbye.

"Have a pleasant night, sir." The look she gave him before she left, was one of pity. Grant should be used to that look by now. It was one he had been getting for almost six months now. Still, he couldn't help the rigid posture that came over him. He bit his cheek, to prevent from saying something he would regret, and nodded at Donna sharply. Once she left, he tried to relax so he could finish his paperwork. He was just starting to unwind when the worst thing that could happen, did happen.

“Hello, brother,” Christian said as he entered Grant’s office without knocking.

“Christian.” Grant greeting was sharp. “Why are you here?”

“Straight to the point, I see,” Christian snarked before sitting himself in the chair across from Grant.

“Yes, because I don’t have time to deal with you,” Grant fired back. He leaned back in his chair and looked at his older brother with narrowed eyes.

“I’m offended. Regardless, I’m not here on my own volition. Mother sent me.”

“Of course, you were always good at doing her bidding,” You could almost feel the room grow colder, yet Christian ignored this new barbed remark.

“She wants you to come over for dinner. She says you’ve avoided the family long enough.”

“Right, and when she says jump, I’m supposed to jump?” Grant tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “That will happen when hell freezes over.” Christian sighed and stood up.

“Well little brother, hell is freezing over then. Mom wants you at the house tomorrow at 8 p.m.” Christian buttoned his suit jacket and turned to leave Grant’s office. He stopped when he reached the door and turned back towards Grant.

“It’s been six weeks, Grant. It’s time to get over whatever her name was.” Surprise registered only fractionally before unadulterated wrath settled into Grant, taking root in his very soul, his hands and fingertips having been resting on his desk, grew white with pressure as he slowly pulled himself out of his chair, the tense muscles in his face, his shoulders, arms, and chest growing taut with effort to restrain himself, and at the apex of his movement, his hands were balled into fists at his side. His blood boiled, the instinct to fight kicking in, the desire to give into the purity of his rage.

"Get. Out." Grant's words barely made it through his clenched teeth, his anger flaring through him like a barely controlled tide, pressing outward from within him, his muscles aching for release, his eyes fixated on the most likely target for ventilation. He stood up slowly, waiting for the opportunity to punch that stupid, smug look on his older brother's face. Christian just smiled cruelly at him before leaving his office.

Before Grant could regain control of his emotions, he whirled around and smashed his fist into the wall.

 _Fuck, you need to get it together..._ he mentally said to himself as he slumped into his chair and shook his head slowly, his hand throbbing as a reminder of his lost control. Honestly, he wasn't even sure why he bothered with his brother. Christian's sole purpose in life was to make him miserable. He'd known that since he was a child. There was a time, not too long ago, when Grant would just roll his eyes at his brother's never ending tactics to torture him. But that time was long gone, along with any fight he used to have when encountering his family. It took more effort to continuously quarrel with his family than it did to just show up, take whatever horrid insults they threw, and go home. That was how Grant knew that he would be at his parent's house tomorrow for dinner. Life was so fucking great.

…

By the time Grant managed to calm himself down enough to be able to focus on things, it was close to 7 p.m. The rain had stopped momentarily, but thunder still rumbled in the sky, signaling that the storm wasn’t over yet.

It was pleasant, engrossing himself in the drive home, allowing distraction to pull his mind away from the dull ache in his chest, the empty void inside of him that begged to be filled. As he arrived at the house he lived in, he found the blank distraction of his drive lasted about three steps inside before the overwhelming sense of memory pulled him from his reverie, the smells reminding him of loss, the sights bringing fresh agony to his wounded heart. As his eyes scanned the dark and unnaturally still living room, he was once again reminded of what he was returning home too. Nothing.

He stood silently just inside the door, casting his looks around the empty rooms. With a deep sigh, he forced himself to commit to the intricacies of his nightly routine. He hung his jacket on the coat rack that he didn't buy because he thought it was useless, he drug himself to the fridge, cracking it open, pretending to consider getting a water before pulling out a beer. Alcohol didn't help, but it sure made sleeping easier. It took the edge off of the pain. The unceasing, fathomless pain.

This house, he thought, is not my home. Home is where the heart is. Mine hasn't been here for...some time.

He’d only managed to take a few sips of his beer before he threw the bottle, with more force than necessary, into the sink. The bottle shattered and the beer splattered on the surrounding counters and wall. For a moment, Grant stared blankly at the mess he had made. He contemplated cleaning it up, but in the end, he left his kitchen and headed towards the door. He grabbed his coat and left - purposely leaving the door unlocked. He didn’t care if someone broke in. They could take everything if they wanted. It was all meaningless to him.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, but truthfully, that didn’t matter to him. Anywhere was better than his house.

Grant used to have a life, a future, that he looked forward to. Getting up in the morning used to be easy because he had a reason too: Skye.

He never knew love before her. He never believed he would find someone who would bear the burden of his family, to see and meet the horrible place where he came from, and still love him until Skye came tumbling into his life quite literally.

He loved her with every fiber of his being, as clichéd as that sounded. He wanted to marry her, start a family with her, and live a life that he never had as a child.

When he was with Skye, he completely lost track of time all the time. Going to sleep and waking up wrapped in her arms always had him feeling safe. He spent so much time imagining their future together, he never stopped and asked what would happen if she wasn’t in his life. If she was just...gone.

He had never considered himself lucky - especially considering the torture he suffered as a child - so it shouldn’t be surprising that his only hope would be ripped away from him too. And now he was stuck in his own personal hell, going through the same routine, and stuck dealing with his family.

…

Now miles away, Grant walked into a grocery store. He didn't need anything, of course, but perhaps the monotony of shopping would distract him from the frustration that seemed to never cease building within him. He found himself thinking about the items he did have, which was mostly beer and water, of course. He pushed a buggy along each aisle, eyes passing unfocused over plentiful shelves, present physically, but mind drifting away into blank daydreams. He rounded the aisle with drinks, passed by the baking aisle, as he never had the desire, much less the talent for baking, and was going to the chip aisle...wait…

_Wait._

His brain almost forced his body backward in curious confusion. He leaned back and, mind now focused, he laid eyes on none other than Melinda May Coulson herself, someone he once considered a future mother in law, someone he thought he'd see often into the future, the mother of his one love, Skye.

His stomach rolled and he could taste the bile on the back of his tongue. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. He was not ready to see her and he assumed she would not be ready to see him.

It had been a while since they spoke. A long while. Healing takes time and the wound of the accident was fresh, especially to them, her parents. Things became heated when they found out what happened, even so far as Phil, her father, asking him to stay away from the family.

Of course, Grant wanted nothing more than for communication to begin again, for reconciliation and understanding to grow, for he hurt too. That was something that took root inside of him, that through all of this, the Coulson's acted like he didn't hurt like he wasn't suffering. Grant's eyes narrowed as bitterness bit at his heart, trying to fill the void within him, suffusing itself into anger. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. He understood why they asked what they did to him, but sometimes he became overwhelmed, his hurt turning into anger. Lashing out wouldn't help anyone, especially not him.

He began to feel his heart rate slow, and Melinda had yet to notice him, so he quickly turned his buggy around. He figured it would be best if he didn't speak to her. He was determined to get on with his shopping and go back to his empty home, without the love of his life, to an evil, heartless family that tortured him for something they frankly couldn't understand before Melinda could notice his presence.

However, he’d only managed to turn around and take one step before he stopped dead in his tracks. Every drop of emotion, turmoil, and thought left him, drained from him like someone had pulled the plug. His mind was completely blank. He knew his jaw was open and his eyes were wide. His face resembled that of a deer caught in a headlight. He knew he shouldn't, but before he could stop, he opened his mouth and whispered her name.

“Skye.”

Skye stopped and stared at him, confusion clear in her eyes. She was holding some seasoning in her hand - he recognized it immediately. It was a spice Melinda preferred to use when she was cooking certain meals.

He could hear Melinda’s quick footsteps approaching. Her face was colored with worried as she eyed him cautiously when she made her way to her daughter. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but before she could, Skye spoke.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice sent shivers down Grant’s back. It had felt like an eternity since he’d heard her. “Do I know you?” Her head was tilted, her uncertainty and curiosity, her brow was furrowed, and her eyes were narrowed as she tried to recall who he was. It was no use, though. He knew that she was nothing more than a stranger to her. He looked from her to Melinda, and back to her before shaking his head.

“No, no you don’t. I’m sorry.” He turned to make a quick exit, but before he did, he saw her nodding her head slowly and watching him suspiciously. She didn’t believe him, but he couldn’t really tell her who he was.

The doctors diagnosed her with post-traumatic amnesia after the accident. They couldn’t tell Grant when, or even if, she would get her memories back. They just told him that the past several years - their entire life together - was gone from her memory and that she needed time.

 _“Remain hopeful,”_ the doctors had said. _“She has a good chance of getting her memories back.”_

Yeah...a good chance. Until that happened, he had to live his life without her, knowing she was out there, but he couldn’t be with her.

Grant left his buggy near the entrance of the store and took off out of the door. He had barely rounded the corner of the store before he emptied what little he had in his stomach on the concrete and collapsing onto the ground.

With his back pressed against the rough brick and his hands buried in his hand, he did something he hadn't done in a long time. He cried.

He cried for himself, for Skye, for their lost love. His stomach knotted in deeply rooted agony and his vision darkened as he tried to catch his breath. He had tried so hard to hold himself together, but he couldn't do it anymore. So, he sat on the cold ground outside of the grocery store alone, and just let go of everything he had been holding in.

Once he had nothing left, he slowly made his way to his car - stumbling weakly a few times along the way. He slumped into his front seat and started his car, but he did not make a move to put the car into drive. Instead, he sat motionless, with his hands resting heavily on the steering wheel. Desire touched him, pulling him home to sleep, but he knew that the memories of what was lost would haunt him. So, he remained still, staring at his windshield, his vacant eyes staring back at him as he simply just existed.


	2. Two: Healing

_“As my sufferings mounted I soon realized that there were two ways in which I could respond to my situation -- either to react with bitterness or seek to transform the suffering into a creative force. I decided to follow the latter course.”_

_―_ _Martin Luther King Jr._  

* * *

 

_It was the sound of grunting that pulled Grant away from the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth. He stopped in the doorway that separated the bathroom from the bedroom and scanned his room for the source._

 

_“Skye?” he called with a mouth full of toothpaste._

 

_“Yeah?” Her muffled voice came from underneath his bed. Grant rounded the bed to see Skye half under it._

 

_“What are you doing?” He chuckled as he watched her squirm._

 

_“Oh, urm…” she cursed quietly when she bumped her head in her efforts to get out from underneath the bed. She sat on the floor, clad only in her underwear, and rubbed her head. Grant knelt beside her and stroked the back of her head tenderly._

 

_“Are you okay?”_

 

_“Yeah,” she sighed before looking up at him. “Have you seen my bra?”_

 

_Grant couldn’t stop the snort of laughter that bubbled up from his throat. Skye narrowed her eyes at him in mock anger._

 

_“You know, you keep laughing at me, and next time, I might not want to do that **thing** you seem to like so much…”  she let her voice trail off suggestively._

 

_“You mean…” He looked at her._

 

_“Yep.  Now help me find the damn thing.”_

 

_They eventually did find Skye’s bra...hanging on the corner of the living room television. Grant just laughed and shrugged his shoulders when Skye glared at him. In return, Grant pulled her close and kissed her until her legs were weak and she couldn’t breathe._

 

_Sometime later, when the couple was dressed, they made their way to the door._

 

_"So, after work, I have to swing by my place and pick up some clothes. I should be here around four to get ready for dinner at your parents tonight."_

 

_Grant groaned and rested his forehead against Skye’s shoulder, causing her to laugh. She stroked her fingers through his hair and kissed his head._

 

_“I really don’t want to spend the night at my parent’s bullshit.”_

 

_“It won’t be that bad.” Grant shook her head against Skye’s should, before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “As much as I’m enjoying this,” she began after a moment.  I really have to get to work.”_

 

_“Fine…” Grant sighed and pulled away. He smirked down at her. “You know, if you moved in with me, you wouldn’t have to stop by your place to get clothes. They’ll all be here.”_

 

_“Oh really?”_

 

_“Yep,” Grant smirked, putting an emphasis on the P._

 

_“Well then...I might just have to take you up on that offer.” She leaned up on her tippy toes and rubbed her nose against his._

 

_“I’m serious. I love you so much. I can’t imagine a future without you. I love that you’re the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see when I go to sleep. I want you around all the time. When you’re not here, all I can think about is you. Will you move in with me?”_

 

_"Grant," Skye whispered softly. She gripped his cheeks and kissed him gently. "I love you, too. More than I thought was ever possible. Of course, I'll move in with you. We can start this weekend."_

 

_Grant let out a sigh of relief - as if Skye would say anything other than yes - and kissed his girlfriend once more._

 

_“Come on, stud. Let’s go before we’re late.”_

 

_Hand in hand, the couple left the house. The were in sheer bliss - as so many are when they’re in love - but they were both completely aware of the tragic, life changing event that would take place that very night._

 

It’s hard to explain when numbness takes over.  It’s not an event, really, it’s more of a matter of time, it’s a frame of mind.  Things that normally irritated him, like being cut off during the drive, catching the tail end of a yellow light just slow enough that you have to stop to avoid running a red, being behind people who drive just under the speed limit - all of these things were simply consumed by the overarching... _numbness._

 

Frustration tickled Grant's fingertips, he felt the gentle thrumming of excess emotional energy in his hands, especially when confrontation was inevitable, which it especially was given the destination his drive took him to.  He tapped rhythmically on his steering wheel, trying to allow the music to, as they say, soothe the savage beast, but the irritation within him swelled rather than abated.  His rhythmic tapping soon turned to full on gripping, pressing his palms harder into the wheel, until the numbness sapped the tide from his arms, the hopelessness and defeat trickling into his heart, pulling him from his growing wave of exasperation with an all-encompassing bitterness.  _What’s the point? Getting angry over this accomplishes nothing._

 

With yet another sigh, Grant settled into the monotony of the drive, windows down, taking in the sights as he drove.  He turned the music off, for even the music reminded him of what had gone wrong in his life.

 

_Where did I go wrong?_  He wondered to himself.   _Nothing I did warrants the treatment I’ve received.  It wasn’t my fault._  His last thought was halfhearted, at best.  He knew it, whether or not he chose to admit it openly.

 

The day the accident happened, he'd never admit it, but he was angry.  Now, of course, anger tickles his brain on a daily basis, begging for release.  Skye always wanted him to go to anger management, but he reveled in the explosiveness his emotions allowed.  The irony, of course, is that the one vice Skye wanted to help him be free of is the one vice that ended up placing him in the situation he was in.  If he wouldn't have been _so_ angry that day, the whole situation might not have happened.  If he hadn’t been driving with such ridiculous, nonsensical road rage - _for **no** reason, either._

 

Self-hatred crept in. Self-hatred and shame.  Burning, unquenchable shame that pierced him to his soul.  _If I had just-_

 

The rest of the drive was spent in quiet contemplation of how he’d allowed himself to reach the point he was at now, going to his family’s house filled with turmoil that he had a fingertip’s grip on.  His family wasn’t a rock of support for his struggles with Skye, evidenced only recently by his brother, Christian, and his remarks, as callous as they are, about her, feigning to look him in the face and pretending to forget her name entirely.

 

His last few days have...sucked, for lack of a better word.  He knew it well, as it was a recurring theme in his life lately.  Frankly, though, it was the bitterness that was hardest to swallow, as he felt that the reaction from Phil and May was unjustifiable. It was an accident. He would never hurt Skye intentionally, but her parents didn't seem to believe that or care.

 

_A knee jerk reaction to an awful situation._  He considered himself the victim more than them, really.  They were her parent’s sure, but she was his _partner_.  She was supposed to be with him for the rest of his _li-..._

 

His thoughts were blown away like smoke in the wind as he realized he had reached his childhood home.  He turned into the cobblestone driveway, meticulously placed by the landscapers, driving slowly past rows of large oak trees planted carefully in a well maintained and manicured lawn, arriving sometime later to the large, white mansion that he knew so well from so many years ago.  Driving up, he was met by the four large marble pillars that precluded the entrance, a hand carved heavy oak set of double doors.  He parked directly in front of the doors, knowing well that the butler would be out shortly to park his vehicle in a more sheltered area with the rest of the seemingly absent family's cars.

 

Walking up to the door, Grant steeled his nerves and prepared to face the people he grew up with.   _They aren’t my family.  She is...she was._

 

…

 

Grant was lead through the great hall and into the dining room where the table was already primed and set. Grant couldn't help but roll his eyes. Ever since he could remember, his mother demanded that their eighteen-seat dining room table be set. It was fucking ridiculous, considering that family dinners didn’t exist in this family. The only time the table was used was during one of his father’s ludicrous dinner parties.

 

“Absurd, isn’t it?” Grant turned to see his younger brother, Thomas, entering the room.

 

“Completely. I’m glad you’re here. I can’t stand these people. It’s good to have someone that has my back.”

 

Thomas smiled and threw his arm around Grant’s shoulder.

 

“I’ll always have your back, Grant.” Grant nodded before turning and hugging Thomas. “I know we haven’t talked recently, but I wanted to tell you that I am sorry about Skye. I really liked her. She was good for you.”

 

Grant swallowed thickly and wrung his hands together. For the past, several weeks, there had been so many people blaming him, telling him to stay away, or telling him to get over it. He wasn’t used to someone showing him sympathy. He wasn’t sure exactly to respond to his brother’s words. So instead, he just turned and hugged him.

 

“Thanks,” he whispered.

 

"Anytime. And you-you need anything at all…"

 

“I’ll let you know.” Grant nodded.

 

"Grant! Darling!" The shrill of his mother's voice caused his body to tense and his fists to clench tightly. He turned to face the woman who was the direct cause of every feeling of neglect he'd ever had.

 

“Mother.” His face was expressionless, but his eyes were cold.

 

"Oh, it's so great to see you! I am so glad you could make it." Diana Ward grasped her son's face -  her freshly manicured nails digging into the back of his neck - and pulled him in for a kiss. Grant barely managed to refrain from jerking away from her.

 

“It’s not like I had a choice. You sent your lap dog to me.” His reply was said through clenched teeth.

 

Grant heard Thomas snort.

 

“Oh pish tosh!” Diana waved off with a laugh. “You’re so dramatic, Grant Douglas.”

 

The night was already off to a terrible start and his older brother and father weren’t even in the room yet. Grant was positive he was going to puke at some point tonight. One hundred percent.

 

…

 

When Christian and his father, Robert, finally made their appearance, the dysfunctional family sat down for dinner. Grant, completely lacking a desire to add or contribute to the general conversation, tried his best to bore holes through his plate with his intense stare. He was hoping his presence was enough to satisfy his mother and that he wouldn’t need to contribute anything. It soon became apparent that this hope was in vain.

 

“Grant, darling, I am just so happy you could make it! There is something I have been wanting to talk to you about.”

 

His mother was staring at him like he was a peasant around royalty, while his father was entirely aloof and oblivious to him at all, finished by his brother who was looking at him with that same irritating smugness from before, reminding Grant of his desire to take him down a peg or two.  Carefully, of course.

 

His gripped the fork tightly in his hand and clenched his jaw in preparation for whatever shit his mother was about to pile onto him.

 

"What?" His question came out sharply.

 

“Well,” she began as she stood up and set her napkin on her plate. “Your father and I have been thinking about your future.” Diana stood next to her husband - who looked dismayed **-** and rested her hand on his shoulder, showing off her newest weapon in her arsenal of gaudy rings.

 

“Really? Because it seems to me like that is none of your fucking business.” Grant stood up and dropped his fork onto his plate. It landed with a loud clatter.

 

“Now son, don’t melodramatic,” his father mumbled in a monotonous voice.

 

“Yes, little brother, sit and listen to Mother.” Christian smiled up at their mother in the way a child kissing up to a teacher would.

 

“Kiss ass,” Thomas fake coughed. Christian just narrowed his eyes at the younger boy in the family.

 

“Thomas! Watch your language! My heavens!” Diana looked like she was about to have a heart attack. Grant wished she would. He didn’t want her to die, but he wanted her the fuck away from him. “Now, back to what I was saying before Grant’s little outburst. I have been thinking about your future. It’s been a few weeks since your little fling with that girl, Sarah.”

 

“Skye, Mother.”  Grant’s exasperation began to come through, the muscles in his jaw working as his face tightened in scarcely controlled irritation.  He swallowed words that wanted to pour out of him.   _Control, Grant.  Stay in control..._

 

“Like I care.” She waved off the remark. “I knew it wouldn’t last. Regardless, she’s out of your life, and I think it’s time for you to think about settling down with an _appropriate_ woman for this family and for you. Do you remember Clarissa MacIntyre? You two went to school together. Anyway, she has recently moved back into her father’s estate and she is looking to marry. So, I talked to her mother and we both agree that you two would be perfect together. Now, Clarissa already knows and she is very excited to become Mrs. Grant Ward. Isn’t that just perfect?”

 

The silence that followed was deafening. Grant could feel every pair of eyes on him, but his steady, heated stare remained directed toward his mother. His entire body was vibrating as red hot rage coursed through him. It took every ounce of willpower that he had not to knock every plate in his vicinity off the table.

 

The tension in the room felt as thick as fog, the question still hanging desperately in the air, looking for someone to continue the conversation, his mother's face unchanged as she stared at him with that absurd expression of hers, like "How can you possibly be against what I'm saying?"

 

Grant planned to inform her exactly how.

 

“Let me make one thing very clear.” His words were calculated and soft. “I will not participate in any kind of arranged marriage you try to set up, _mother._ I don’t care if you disown me, it will not happen.”

 

“Grant!” His mother gasped.

 

“No. I’m done. I’m done with this fucked up family. No more dinners, no more holidays, no more nothing. I am done. Do not call me. Do not send your little lap dog to deliver your messages.” Christian stood up, prepared to say something, but Grant silenced any attempt when he punched the table.

 

"I love Skye, with every ounce of my being. She may not be in my life anymore, but she still means the world to me. She was the only person who could heal the damage that you caused, mother. When I was with her, I was truly happy. So I will not stand here and listen to you talk to her like she is nothing. She is a better person than everyone in this room combined."

 

Grant stepped away from the table, knocking his chair over in the process.

 

“Son, you can’t just-” His father tried.

 

“Oh, I can and will. Every one of you, apart from Thomas, can burn in hell.” And with that, Grant turned and left. His muscles were quivering, his pulse was racing, and heat flushed through his body. Every fiber of his being was itching to just exploded. He needed to scream. He needed to punch things. He needed to unleash the anger he’d been suppressing for the last several weeks. He needed to, but not here. He wouldn’t give these people the satisfaction of seeing him break.

 

_“Dammit,” Grant swore as he slammed his door violently. He started his car and threw it into drive. He sped out of his parent’s driveway quickly. Tire marks were left in his wake. “I knew my mother would try to pull something, but_ this... _this really takes the fucking cake.”_

 

_“Grant, baby, I understand. You’re upset-”_

 

 

 

_Skye stared at her boyfriend, trying to think of a way to calm her boyfriend before it was too late. Before he -_

 

“Fuck!” Grant swore loudly as he punched his dashboard. He was parked at a red light. He could feel his anger consuming him. He needed to get home. If he didn’t, something might happen. Something worse than -

 

_“Baby, I get it. But you need to calm down. You need to breathe.” Skye’s voice was cautious as she tried to reason with Grant. This isn’t the first time she’s seen his anger triggered. She had been trying so desperately to get him to seek help. It hurt her to see him suffering so. Maybe this was his breaking point._

 

_“I just can’t believe her. She has no fucking right to intrude in our lives like this.”_

 

_Skye leaned forward to rest her hand on his, but he just pulled his away. He didn’t want comfort, he wanted to wash his hands of his family. He wanted to -_

 

Grant slammed his door hard, causing several pictures to fall off the wall. The cell phone in his hand continuously vibrated as his family tried to contact him. He didn't want to talk to them and he didn't want to see them, but obviously, they didn't understand what he had said.

 

He gripped his phone tightly before throwing it across his living room. The phone hit the wall, shattering completely.

 

“Fuck!” He cursed before kicking the foot rest, sending it flying into the wall near the television stand. “Why can’t I-”

 

_“Grant, you’re really starting to scare me,” Skye said quietly. “Why don’t you pull over and we can talk?”_

 

_“I’ve had enough of talking.  I’ve **had** it, Skye.  I can’t take it anymore”_

 

_"I know baby, I do. I want to help you, but first, you need to get control of your emotions before something happens."_

 

_Grant looked at Skye. She looked terrified, but his brain didn't register it. Instead, he just scoffed, and -_

 

“What did I do to deserve this?” He asked no one in particular.

 

He grabbed the pillows on his couch and threw them in every direction, knocking lamps over and pictures off the wall.  With a heave of fury, he grabbed the base of the couch and flipped it as hard as he could backward and into the nearby wall.

 

There was a rightness to his actions, a justice in releasing the emotions that had tortured him for so many weeks.  For so long.

 

“Why did I have to lose her??” His voice wavered as the pain became too much.

 

_“Grant, please pull over,” Skye pleaded in near desperation. Her heart rate was increasing as she watched her boyfriend lose it._

 

_“I’m fine, Skye,” he snapped. “Stop worrying.”_

 

_“I can’t stop worrying. You’re spiraling. You need to calm down. You’re not in the right state of mind, and I understand, I do. Just pull over and I will drive.”_

 

_“We’re almost home.” Was his tight reply._

 

_"Grant please before something happens that you won't be able to fix."_

 

_“For God's sake Skye, I am fine! Nothing will happen! I am in complete-”_

 

Grant turned toward the only item in his living room that was still intact - his Christmas tree. He wasn’t sure why exactly he put the tree up - probably because Christmas was Skye’s favorite holiday and he hoped -

 

He shook off the thought and, with the last bit of fury induced adrenaline he had left, he lifted the tree and threw it as far as he could before he collapsed on the hardwood floors.

 

\---

 

_Grant had been given a wheelchair to allow him to roam the hospital during his stay.  His injuries weren’t severe enough to warrant restriction to his bed, so he was basically left alone unless they needed more blood for tests or to check his vitals.  Naturally, the first opportunity presented for him to leave his bed, he wheeled himself quickly into the ICU, where he knew Skye lay._

 

_His arms burned with effort, his shoulders screamed for mercy, but he pressed his unwilling body harder to get to her, the love of his life, his world.  To Skye._

 

_As he rounded the final corner, he saw a doctor standing next to her bed speaking to Phil and Melinda, Melinda crying as Phil supported her through whatever news or information the doctor was sharing.  With a grunt of exertion, Grant pushed himself into hearing range._

 

_“...including damage to the hippocampus.  She’s lucky to be alive, if she would have been hit any harder, she’d be in a vegetative state.  As it stands, there is plenty of brainwave activity signifying that there is life in her.”  The doctor paused a moment, acknowledging Grant’s presence before continuing.  “I’m sorry, you need to understand.  The hippocampus is essentially the memory bank of the mind, and your daughters was struck.  The likelihood that there will be memory loss to some degree is extremely high.  We’ll keep an eye on her and continue to monitor her condition, she’s scheduled for surgery in an hour, we have teams preparing the operating room.”  The doctor had the awareness enough to look sad as he delivered the news, but changed his expression to one of hope as he informed them of the surgery._

 

_“What happened to her.  Is she ok?”  Grant asked, out of breath._

 

_“You fucking asshole.”  Phil turned heavily on Grant._

 

_“Phil, don’-...” Melinda started, but Phil ignored her._

 

_“You have the nerve to come over here and see her after **you** put her here?”  Phil’s voice was rising, his face turning red, the muscles around his jaw began tensing._

 

_“I’m sorry, I made a mistake…”  Grant’s voice was overwhelmed with guilt, trailing off wrapped in sadness._

 

_“Mistake?!”  Phil was livid.  “Your **mistake** nearly killed my damn daughter, you fucking idiot!  She has broken ribs, a broken collarbone, a fractured skull, her **hearing** is gone in one ear, she’s lost an incredible amount of blood, and as you just heard, she probably lost her memory, and you want to sit there and say you’re **sorry**?!”_

 

_Melinda began crying again._

 

_"It was a mistake, Phil, I didn't know."  Grant felt like his heart was in his feet._

 

_“You didn’t know.”  Phil laughed.  “He didn’t know, Mel.  You hear that?  He didn’t know.  Oh well, Grant, why didn’t you say so?  That makes everything perfectly ok!”  Phil walked around the bed and stood directly in front of Grant.  “I’ll tell you what, Grant.  Just for you, I’ll make you a promise, alright?  If you ever come near Skye, I’ll call the police on you.”  His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.  “Then you can tell them **you** **didn’t know**.”_

 

_“Melinda, you have to believe me…  I would never do anything to hurt Skye.  Ever.” Grant tried to reason with Skye’s mother._

 

_In response, she simply held her hand up.  “I’ll tell her **you didn’t know** when she wakes up if she even remembers who we are.  You need to leave.  Now." _

 

Grant wasn’t sure how long he laid on his floor, his head tilted up staring at his ceiling, surrounded by the broken pieces of his living room. It didn’t matter. He was in no hurry to do anything.

 

He had a continuous stream of tears rolling down his face, but he made no move to wipe them away - his hands and arms felt too heavy to move, even if he wanted to wipe the tears away.

 

_What will happen to me now?_ He thought... _How do I move forward from this? How can I even?_

 

He was just so tired of feeling this way. For too long, he'd let his anger issues get the best of him, and it cost him, Skye. As bitter as he was, he understood why Phil and Melinda asked him to stay away, because he, too, blamed himself. He should have listened to her. He should have pulled over and calmed down or let her drive. Maybe if he had...maybe if had listened, the accident wouldn't have happened.

 

It was an accident, in a manner of speaking. He had the green light and some idiot who was too busy on their phone to notice that they had a red light, ran it and smashed into the side of the car Skye was in. But, if Grant had been paying attention, instead of seething, he would have seen the other vehicle. He would have stopped in time, before they were in the path of the other vehicle, before Skye…

 

Grant closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. There was no point in dwelling on the past. What happened, happened, and nothing could change that. He couldn't fix the damage his anger had caused in the past, but he could make sure it didn't affect him in the future.

 

Skye had pushed him to seek treatment for his anger, but he always shrugged her off, claiming that he had control of his anger. He was wrong and he learned that too late. Skye was gone, she had no idea who he was, and maybe that was for the best. It was his irrationality that hurt her, and he was lucky she was alive.

 

But even though she wasn’t in his life anymore, didn’t mean she didn’t affect him. As he laid on his floor, so close to giving up, so tired of it all, it was the thought of her that gave him hope. Hope that he could, and would, get better, but he had to take the first step.

 

He couldn’t keep living like this. He couldn’t handle feeling like this. He wasn’t exactly eager to jump up and clean up the mess he’d made - both in his living room and his life - but he did feel slightly rejuvenated - as unpleasant as it was, he felt he needed this break down to move forward.

 

With a newfound sense of hope tingling in his veins, he stood up and began cleaning up his living room. Several things were smashed and would have to be replaced - nothing that was too meaningful, though. He took comfort in that.

 

 

 

Grant assured her that it wasn’t a big deal and he could replace it, but it didn’t help her devastation much. The necklace was one of the first presents he’d given her. Gently, he placed the necklace on the television stand. Maybe he’d be able to return it to her one day. Maybe. With that thought, Grant continued to clean.

 

…

 

For the next week, Grant kept mostly to himself. He went into work early so he could catch up on his paperwork - Christmas was coming up, and even though he didn’t have anyone to spend it with, he didn’t want to be at work - and when he was off he worked on cleaning up his house or researching anger management classes. He had found

 

He hadn’t heard from his mother since the incident, but his father did reach out. He was partially surprised that his father took the time to come to his office, but then again, he should have at least expected some form of contact. His father was as done with his mother’s bullshit as he was.

 

 

 

He hadn’t talked to Rose in a few weeks - she was studying law at Harvard and it left her very little free time - but a few days after the incident, he did reach out. He felt better after talking to his younger siblings.

 

He wasn't happy, he wasn't expecting to be for some time, but he was feeling more positive which made his day to day life a little better. It was Friday, two days before Christmas, and the last day he would be at work until next week. He was just finishing up paperwork when his secretary, Donna, stuck her head into his office

 

“Excuse me, Mr. Ward. I’m sorry to bother you, but you have a visitor.”

 

“Do they have an appointment?” He asked without lifting his head from the paper he was working on.

 

“No sir, but she said that she knew you and that it was important.”

 

Before he could reply, a third voice joined the conversation.

 

“Hello, Grant.”

 

His head snapped up and his eyes zeroed in on the woman who spoke, Melinda May Coulson. Grant nodded at his secretary, who left the two alone.

 

“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting this. What can I help you with?”

 

“I actually came to apologize to you.”

 

Grant reared back in shock and for a moment, he honestly thought he'd lost his mind because Melinda May Coulson did not apologize to anyone.

 

“I have to say,” Grant began slowly, after a moment. “I definitely was not expecting that. Another ‘stay away from my daughter’ sure, but not an apology.”

 

"I know." Her voice was tinged with remorse. She sat in the chair across from him and looked at him steadily. "When I received the call about Skye, I went straight into panic mode and that was taken out on you. Phil and I-...we had no right to blame you. It wasn't your fault, it was the other drivers. But since he wasn't there, our anger and fear were directed at you. It wasn't fair."

 

“You’re right, it wasn’t. I love Skye, with all of my heart, and I would never intentionally hurt her.”

 

“I know that now. I knew that then, and I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that.”

 

Grant tilted his head and looked at Melinda with furrowed eyebrows.

 

"Why now?" He asked. "Why come and apologize now, weeks later."

 

“I wanted to apologize sooner, but it was hard...I was terrified to leave Skye for the first few weeks, I was wracked with guilt over how we handled the situation with you and knowing that we had taken you from our daughter’s life. I honestly wasn’t sure I’d have the courage to come up once I got here.”

 

“You were afraid?” He scratched his jaw as he watched her.

 

“I’m only human, after all.” She shrugged.

 

Grant pondered her words for a moment for he nodded and stood up.

 

"Thank you for stopping by Melinda. And thank you for the apology." His tone was polite and even, but on the inside, he was a whirlwind of emotions. He wasn't sure what this meant, but that small ounce of hope inside of him grew a little stronger. Maybe a future with Skye was still possible.

 

“Merry Christmas, Grant.” She gave him one last, lingering smile, before leaving his office. Once she was out of sight, Grant slumped into his chair with a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t for his these next few days off.

 

...

 

For the first time in some time, Grant sat on his couch, turned on the football game, and was having a glass of water relaxing feeling some measure of peace. It was December 23. Christmas was approaching quickly. Grant felt a twinge of sadness as he looked at his newly purchased Christmas tree - the other one, unfortunately, wasn’t salvageable, but he liked this new one. It seemed greener. He had tried to decorate the tree in a way that he knew Skye would like. Even though she wasn’t there anymore, he wanted to honor the memories they had built together.

 

As the sadness settled, he mentally considered his situation, and he found himself laughing.  Really laughing, a deep, meaningful laugh.  There is a concept in biology called homeostasis.  It’s the internal dialogue of the body that balances out extremes in all situations, all encounters, all emotions, feelings, and dialogue.  If the body is hot, the body sweats to bring the temperature back down.  Likewise, when the body cools off, it stops sweating.  As someone eats candy, the candy raises blood sugar, so the body releases insulin, which lowers blood sugar.  As it falls back to ‘normal’, insulin tapers off.

 

This effect is not purely physical, it’s also physiological.  Acute, agonizing misery is only sustainable for so long, because the body comes to understand that the pain can’t be dulled down, but your emotional reaction to it can be.  The emergency button for the body is that when the pain doesn’t go down, all your emotions are cranked down as far as they can go.  Distress, pleasure, fear.

 

Grant continued laughing, the homeostasis in his body bringing him back to normal.  He laughed until tears formed in his eyes and his mind finally settled on the knowledge that perhaps things will work out.

 

As he settled down, he heard the front doorbell of his house ring.  Obviously not expecting company, he figured it was carolers or Jehovah’s Witness, come to save his lost soul again.

 

Walking over to the door, he didn’t bother to check the peephole and threw the door open.

 

“Can I help y-...”  His voice trailed off like someone killed the power in a concert mid-song. Skye was standing there, completely soaked and shivering from the storm outside. Her eyes were red - filled to the brim with tears - her breathing was heavy, and her lips were quivering.

 

"Skye?" He whispered. She looked at him for a moment, her mouth opening and closing several times as she tried to figure out what to say. The tears that were in her eyes, spilled down her cheeks and mixed with the rain water.

 

“I remember.” Her voice trembled as she whispered the words. “Everything.”

 

Grant didn’t know what to say. His heart was hammering, his hands were shaking, and his stomach was fluttering. There were no words worthy enough of this moment, so instead, Grant grabbed her hand and pulled her into his house.

 

He wasted no time pushing her against the door and covering his mouth with hers. At first, the kiss was small, almost timid as the pair became acquainted with each other. It had only been less than two months since the pair was together, but it had felt like a lifetime.

 

As the kiss grew more intense, the pair began to pull at each other’s clothing, desperate to be as close to the other as possible. He gripped her hips tightly, terrified to let her go, almost sure she would fade away.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered when they were both breathless. His forehead was pressed against hers, his cheeks wet with tears.

 

“It wasn’t your fault, Grant.” She tilted her face up to rub her nose against his before kissing him once more. “I don’t blame you.”

 

“How?” He whimpered, disbelief coloring his features.

 

“We’re all human, Grant. We all make mistakes. It’s inevitable. But I don’t blame you. I could never blame you. You didn’t run the red light, the other driver did.” She stroked his cheeks soothingly. He leaned into her touch.

 

“I was so angry,” he admitted. “I should have listened to you, I should have pulled over o-or...I should have seen the other car coming.” He hung his head in shame. He couldn’t look at her. He’d never verbally admitted his role in the accident until now.

 

"Do not blame yourself for the actions of others." She gave him a teary-eyed smile before kissing his cheek. "Yes, you were angry, but you weren't driving reckless. It's hard to explain, but all these memories hit me so hard. I remember every little detail, including the accident. There was no way you could have stopped in time. So, please, don't take the blame. You don't deserve that," she whispered the last part.

 

Grant cupped the back of her neck, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

 

“I missed you so much,” he mumbled against her lips before kissing her once more.

 

“How much did you miss me?” she smirked against his lips.

 

“More than you can imagine.”

 

“Show me.” He pulled away just enough to look in her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his bedroom and love her thoroughly in a way he hadn’t been able to in so long. But, he wanted to make sure she was ready. “We both need this. We’ve been apart for too long. For now, can we just be together? Just the two of us, no outside forces intruding in.”

 

“Yeah.” He smiled down at her. “Yeah, we can.” Without another word, Grant lifted Skye so that she could wrap her legs around his waist and carried her to the bedroom.

 

…

 

Several hours later, when they were both completely sated and curled together, Grant allowed the worrisome thoughts he’d been suppressing to fill his mind. A part of him still couldn’t believe that she was here, in his arms, half asleep, and completely trusting of him. _How can someone as perfect and as caring as her, choose me?_ He found himself wondering.

 

“Don’t do that,” Skye mumbled tiredly against his chest. She shifted so she was looking up at him. She lifted her hand and stroked his jawline with her fingers, before answering his unasked questions. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t.”

 

“How could you know?” It was a stupid question, but he felt the need to ask. Even though he knew the answer. Over time, as their feelings grew and their relationship strengthened, they became like one person. Skye knew everything about him as he knew everything about her.

 

“That’s a silly question,” she laughed.

 

Grant’s face went slack and he couldn’t help but smile.

 

“You’re right.”

 

“You deserve me, Grant. And I deserve you. We’re happy together, and regardless of what anyone thinks, that is all that matters.”

 

Grant nodded but he didn’t verbally reply. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her bare waist and pulled her as close as possible. This was one of the things he had missed most. Skye, flushed against him in the most intimate way possible, their chests pressed against each other, their heartbeats in sync. He fell asleep every night and woke up every morning like this. He didn’t think it would ever be possible to feel this again.

 

“Your parents told me to stay away.” His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke. “They blamed me and told me to stay away.”

 

“I know.” Her voice was quiet as she admitted it. It was almost as if she were ashamed of the actions of her parents.

 

Grant pulled away, slightly shocked by her revelation. After a moment, Skye continued.

 

"When my memories came rushing back, I was completely overwhelmed. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. It was like information overload, but there was one thing I noticed almost instantly. You weren't in any of my memories from after the accident. So, I confronted my parents and they told me the truth…" Skye trailed off. She took a deep breath. Grant could see her lips begin to tremble and the fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks. He lifted his hand to wipe them away. "I'm so sorry that they put you through that." Her voice cracked as she just barely managed to get the apology out.

 

"Hey, no. Don't cry. What did you tell me earlier? I can't blame myself for the actions of others? Well, neither can you."

 

Skye laughed half-heartedly.

 

“That’s not fair. You’re using my words against me.”

 

“Well they’re good words,” he teased. “Ow,” he complained when Skye smacked him. “Ironically enough, your mom came to see me today.”

 

“I know, she told me. I wasn’t as mad at her after she told me, but I was still completely pissed at my dad.”

 

“I don’t blame your parent’s either. They did what they thought they needed too.”

 

“Yeah, well, I did give them a piece of my mind before storming out.”

 

Grant lifted his eyebrow in surprise. Skye had always been the type of person to let things roll of her shoulders. Even when his own mother was being horrible, she just ignored it. To hear that she went off on her parents, it was not something he would have imagined.

 

Skye grabbed his head and brought it to rest on her chest, where her heart was beating steadily.

 

"I love you, Grant. My heart beats _for_ you. You are the only person in the world who can make me feel like this. I understand my parents were angry and hurting, but so were you. When you needed me most, they refused to let you near me. That wasn’t fair to you and I made sure they knew that.”

 

“I love you.” He leaned down to kiss her tenderly. “I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

 

“You won’t.” Her voice was forceful and he could see the determination in her eyes. “Not again. We are in this together.”

 

“You promise?” Grant sounded like a child when he asked, but he couldn’t help it. The fear of losing her was still fresh and circling him like a hawk.

 

“I promise.” She nodded before snuggling into his chest. “Oh.” She pulled away and looked up at him. She began chewing her lip - a nervous habit she had.

 

“What’s wrong?” He lifted his hand to stroke her lip.

 

“I don’t have any Christmas presents for you.” Grant laughed a Skye pouted.

 

“Skye, you are by far the best Christmas present I could have asked for.”

 

Skye’s face melted. “You’re such a sap.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m your sap.” He shrugged.

 

"Yeah...you are." Skye buried her face back into his chest and inhaled deeply, allowing her body to relax against his.

  
Grant wrapped his arms around her once more and buried his face in her neck. Skye placed her hands at the base of his skull and began to massage gently. It wasn't long before Grant began losing consciousness. A few days ago, Grant would have been terrified to go to sleep, knowing that memories of what he lost would haunt him, but now, he couldn't wait to go to sleep, because he knew, dreams of his future with Skye would be what was waiting for him. And that was something he looked forward to.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Paul for all of your help!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at queermageddon

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my best friend Paul for editing this, helping me with ideas, and helping me work through the parts I had trouble with. You're the best.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at queermageddon! Part two will be posted soon!


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